Songs About Rainbows
by Rebel Paisley
Summary: Tori thinks about the relationships that have affected her the most throughout her life. How her team has become her family, and how they have made her the woman she is today. Team fic, Tori POV.


Songs About Rainbows

Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers. Not even a Little.

Summary: Tori thinks about the relationships that have affected her the most throughout her life. How her team has become her family, and how they have made her the woman she is today. Team fic, Tori POV

Notes: mentions of Tori/Blake, Cam/Dustin, and Shane/Hunter pairings.

References to "Into the Woods" and "Any Moment" though you don't need to read either to follow along with the story.

Raw and unbeta-ed

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-

* * *

Tori's grandma always used to tell her that every interaction you had with someone was a touch on their life, just a small peak into their specific world of interests and values before time moved on, your life moved on, and the touch was gone. That lady standing behind you in the grocery store, the one trying to walk her husband or child or friend on the other end of her cell phone through the steps of pre-heating an oven, sounding slightly harried but fond, that was a touch. And when you looked at her you saw a person of business, someone with a nine to five job and a family she adored, who probably cheered for her kid's soccer teams on the weekends with a proud smile on her face, taking the family out for pizza afterwards to celebrate their child's successes and review their failures, to amend for future games to come. Without even interacting with her Tori had a chance to experience her life, just for a second, before resuming hers. To experience without ever actually having to live it.

It was sort of comforting, in a way. It was nice to experience normal from time-to-time. Made Tori remember all the things they had ever fought for.

Though there was more to her grandmother's theory than just a simple reenactment, much more. True, our lives were made of these millions of encounters, but there are some touches, some experiences that stay with you forever, so strong they become a part of your family, a part of your way of existence. You reel them in and hold them close to you, adapting, changing your function because of that one lasting difference.

One touch, two touch, three touch, four; and the world is at your fingertips.

Tori has had several of these somewhat-cosmic collisions.

And she has been grateful for every single one of them.

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

First touch

His name was Shane Clarke, not that Tori would remember, not until later when they would be re-introduced and the memories would come flooding back of that dark-haired boy she sat next to in second grade. At the time it had been irrelevant, because Shane was a boy and boys were weird; loud and dirty and _always_ throwing things. She couldn't remember how his grades were, if he was good at spelling, if he had any prowess with crayons; the only thing she could remember, once she looked back on it, was that he had beaten her at bingo. She had come _this_ close to winning that stuffed snowman for Christmas (it had a blue scarf and a small top hat that made it look more refined and dapper than all the other snowmen, and did she mention his scarf was _blue_) but Shane had gotten the lucky card that round, beating her out right before B9 could be called.

She couldn't remember if Shane had been happy about that, but eventually she did ask him what he'd done with that snowman.

There was a look of confusion, long and steady before recognition eventually lit up in his eyes. He laughed, sharing a fond, conspiring look, before replying he had given it to his little sister Dana. It had earned him several years of good-brother status, on that action alone.

Shane didn't really have the greatest relationship with his siblings, so Tori was glad Shane had managed to win the snowman. A few good years counted for something, even if it was only a few.

After second grade, Tori and Shane were never put into the same classes, though they did go to the same schools. It wasn't surprising; Blue Bay Harbor had plenty of kids their age to keep them apart; their graduating class alone had about four hundred and fifty teens. It would have been more surprising if they had met up again, as they eventually did senior year, in English. Usually Tori stuck to strictly AP classes, but after meeting Shane and Dustin or, re-meeting Shane and Dustin, Tori went ahead and decided to go for a regular English class, just to play the odds. Just to see if it could happen.

It did, surprisingly enough, though Tori thought that might have something to do with a certain tech genius having a soft spot for rambling brunettes, even before he was ever close to admitting it.

But that was a story for another day.

His name was Shane Clarke; Tori re-learned his first name when they started training at the Wind Academy and eventually remembered his last name, once the familiarity of it struck her. Shane Clarke, the one that had stolen her snowman.

He was taller (unsurprisingly) and…buffer, would probably be a good word for it, well maintained. Clearly an athlete, though like most teenage boys he had this perpetually bored look on his face, like he couldn't be bothered to engage in real life, put forth any effort beyond the minimum because that was the "cool" thing to do. He wasn't bad, he was obviously a nice guy, charismatic and got along easily with just about everyone, but he wasn't motivated. Not for anything that wasn't skateboarding (and there was so much, so _achingly_ much more that wasn't skateboarding that he was missing out on).

Shane was a guy Tori had grown beside, both physically and mentally in a sense, with the whole Ninja-training thing going on. But the greatest change was…emotionally, maybe. That they had matured together, learned to depend and really _trust_ one another. Eventually, after the fog of _new-cute-boy_ faded and _how-do-I-deal-with-attractive-girl_ nerves were settled and put away, Tori discovered she had a brother. And not only a brother, but a sort of rock she could depend on.

Shane was a mover and shaker, he got things done (eventually, when he learned how much more meaningful it made everything). He was bright and funny and he cared, he cared _so_ much even when it wasn't the cool thing to do, when it was a scary thing to have these people, these non-family members that you cared about so deeply, that you knew so well and wanted to be safe.

Shane was Tori's leader. He was the first guy to ever acknowledge and respect the danger and power she possessed, her full capabilities, and encouraged them, wanted to use them.

Shane was the friend Tori could call at three in the morning, crying over a broken heart when her grandmother died, and listen to her ramble for as long as she needed it.

He was reliable, always. At least, when he got there.

He liked to say that he had learned that from Tori; the benefits to timeliness, but Tori knew better.

They had learned it from each other.

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

Second touch

His name was Dustin Brooks, and Tori knew this because of the way he had shyly divulged it, so unused to conversing and wanting to fill the dead space like it was some kind of obligation. For all Tori knew maybe he thought that _was_ an obligation, for meeting someone, though she would never be sure. She didn't ask about his pre-team thought processes too much. It always did more harm than good.

Dustin was…spastic, undeniably so. He had alternated between these jerky, unsure movements and complete stillness, as though he were willing himself to disappear, as if he stayed motionless long enough he couldn't do anything wrong, so he wasn't wrong.

Dustin had…confused Tori at first, because she wasn't used to anyone being like that. She had never _talked_ to anyone like that.

It had surprised her later, when she had finally been achieved the friendship level that allowed her into his house, to discover he spent a majority of his time alone. She had thought…she had been so sure he was just an introvert who stuck close to his family, that somehow his recluse behavior demonstrated a tighter family bond or something, to make up for that, but there wasn't. Dustin was by himself.

She had been so stunned by the idea of it, so shocked when she finally realized how strong he was for even bringing her in at all. She had walked on sacred ground so easily, and she hadn't even known the price Dustin had paid for it. Dustin, who only had a hope what she had taken for granted would all work out. She had just blithely pressed onward like it was another day, because it _was_ just another day.

She hadn't noticed the distinction of it.

When they fought through the unease and the fear of rejection and the doubt (so much doubt it hurt sometimes, thinking he would be abandoned again), Dustin eventually began to show her parts of himself. The funny part, the genuine part. The ridiculous creativity and rampant enthusiasm. His cheer, his joy, his fierce love and devotion whenever they earned it, whenever _she_ earned it.

Dustin was the first person she had ever had to work for, and she could not describe how overwhelming _glad_ she was that she had stuck by his side, because it had been worth it. Dustin made her stand back and reevaluate the world, opened her to all these new possibilities she hadn't conceived and probably weren't viable, but had reason to be acknowledged nonetheless.

Dustin was her baby brother. He was light and joy and impulse all crammed into one. He was sorry smiles after trying out some crazy stunt on a whim, knees scraped and cheeks flushed, apologetic for the heart attack he caused but satisfied anyway, because he had at least tried. Dustin was messes that were too big for one human to possibly be responsible for, bags of flour exploding across the kitchen and cracked eggs missing the mixing bowl. He was bad movies and ice cream, action figures when they had all surpassed the age where action-figuring was appropriate, a force of nature too big to be contained by the mere label of "normal".

Dustin was the one that would always have a hug for her, no matter the circumstances. He was the one that piled on top of her whenever she was hogging the couch and countered her sour moods with jokes he couldn't remember the punch lines to, with cookies he baked because they _"Healed the heart",_ and with smiles that were absolutely bright and heartfelt.

As silly as it sounded (because she should have already known this, right?), Dustin had taught her that the world wasn't built on cookie-cutter perfection. That drawing outside the lines was a thing to revel in, that their universe was not simply black or white or shades of grey, it was the _"Whole darn rainbow"_ and that should be celebrated.

He was so thankful, always, that Tori had taken a chance on him. That was the way he told the story, if anyone asked for it. Tori had reached out to him, had put up with him, had taken him under her wing and _that's_ what led to their relationship blossoming, that's how he was able to crawl out of his shell and really live, like there would be no more tomorrow.

Tori let him have that inaccuracy because he drew so much joy from it. She loved him enough to let him have it his way, because it made him feel wanted, made him feel loved, but to herself, Tori told it differently.

It was Dustin who had taken a chance on _her_.

And she was one of the most loved people because of it.

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

Third touch

His name was Cam Watanabe, and he was a jerk.

He made sure they knew it too, going out of his way just he could make sarcastic comments about their inadequacies, their failures.

Later Tori would realize that it all had very little to with Cam's personal feelings towards them and more to do with what they represented. That somehow novices, playful, joking _kids_ could have a spot in the Wind Academy and he couldn't. He had been bitter, so rough and angry at his rejection, his father's rejection, because that was how he perceived it to be. Somehow, he wasn't good enough. Despite all his training, all his spying and reading and learning, his intellect, his ingenuity, it still hadn't earned him a chance to learn what his father had been in charge of teaching for so many years.

Even though he knew better, knew that his capabilities were so much _more_ than the rest of them, Cam had a modicum of doubt in the back of his mind. Like maybe his father saw something Cam couldn't, that they could _all_ see some inadequacy that he never had the chance to discover. That he _couldn't_ see, and it killed him. Killed him to think that maybe he was just too arrogant to think he had none, that his pride rendered him incapable of learning what other teenagers, ones who hadn't lived and breathed the thing that was his family's legacy, what all the Watanabe's had done, could.

It would all end with him, because for some reason, he wasn't good enough.

One day when Tori had enough of it, when she was sick of his, for lack of better word, _meanness_, she had tracked him down in the park (where he was installing the first of what would be many cameras) and let him have it. She explained, in as many words as she so pleased and as loudly as she desired and using whatever _inflection_ so happened to strike her whimsy, that she, Tori Hanson, would not put up with his bitterness anymore. If he wanted to sulk, _fine_, he was entitled to that. Hell, _everyone_ was entitled to that, but he wasn't going to take out his bad mood on them anymore. He was a human, they were humans, and his situation sucked, it really did, but they couldn't keep going on like this.

He had stared at her for a very long time, expressionless, screwdriver in hand, before he eventually nodded. He gave her no vocal response after that, simply turned back to his work and blocked her out, Tori and her troubles and her attitude no longer existing in his world, and that was that.

She had stared at his back for a few minutes, suspicious and disbelieving, before she eventually retreated, casting a few glances over her shoulder to ensure he wasn't doing anything sneaky.

She hadn't thought she had made it through to him, that he had only nodded to get her to go away, but Cam had kept his word…gesture, thing. Any interactions he had with them from that point on were handled with mild curtness, but he still helped them. He assisted them with their training when it pleased him with nothing but a quiet informative tone and some mild judging that would probably never completely go away.

By the time they had become rangers, Cam had been alienated and cold. He had warmed up to them over time, eventually viewing them less as pests and slow children he had to lead and more like capable fighters, like they were welcome. He had supported them because it was his duty, but eventually…he liked them. His sarcastic comments became less biting and more playful, and the few times he leaned towards the former it was to cover up his concern, his fears. He had grown attached to them; though it had been difficult to tell with the way he had gripped at their rough use of his equipment, with his lectures that they weren't as serious as they needed to be, with his judgment when they failed.

It took awhile for Tori to realize he was griping because the rough handling of the zords meant they would be more banged up too, that a second's lack of focus could leave them with crippling wounds, that their failure could one day lead to a battle they _wouldn't_ walk away from.

Cam had been the first person that made Tori realize the levity of their situation. How lofty the responsibility they held was. That they were entrusted with everyone's protection, something they had to strive for at all costs, all personal feeling aside.

Cam had helped her condition out her emotions when it came to analyzing a situation, had taught her how to maintain her balance, how to stabilize herself in the changing winds. That no matter how much she could be hurting, or how tired she was, that she _had_ to push forward, that she had to keep her eyes on the responsibility they held, because they were the only ones that could.

Cam was an advisor. He was tiny smiles and hard-earned trust; he was strategy and revision, consideration and learning. Cam was focus, such tremendous focus, and Cam was strength. Strength whenever you thought you didn't have any, strength whenever you felt incapable because you had to. Cam was an unrelenting sense of duty, and that moment where you allowed yourself just the tiniest sliver of satisfaction whenever things turned out alright, because you never wanted to get cocky but wanted to celebrate anyway.

Cam was her friend. He was the one who lightly slapped the back of her head whenever she did something wrong she knew how to do right, he was that last-minute savior who always pulled a hidden trick he had created that morning right out of his hat. He was a guardian, checking over all their injuries with practiced care, frowning when they protested his treatments and then giving them extra-long exams just to spite them for it. He was the one that beamed over new technology and laughed when he was finally relaxed around all of them, who hung in the back and took care of them first, who for his efforts, asked for nothing in return.

Who was surprised whenever they grew to love him for it.

Whenever they ended up recounting that day in the park, _"A classic Tori moment"_ Shane would like to call it, Cam always claimed that as the moment Tori made him realize that the world was far bigger than just him. That no matter how badly he felt, that was no reason not to press onward and try to do good. To do not only what was expected of him, but to give back.

Cam attributed his sense of duty to Tori but by this point, Tori new that was not the case.

Cam had given her the drive to fight. He had instilled in her his determination and his ability to drown out his own needs for others.

Cam had made her better.

Tori had just been angry.

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

Fourth touch

His name was Hunter Bradley, and he was just a guy.

Which, in retrospect, had probably been what Hunter was aiming for. Nothing too special, nothing loud or exaggerated or outstanding, just a guy. Cool, would be a good way to describe him. He hung back behind his brother, letting Blake do most of the talking, but he was constantly aware. That had been his one tell, his one…off thing. He didn't say much, but he had his eyes on everything; on them, on their reactions, their tone, his surroundings, all the exits…It must have been exhausting.

Hunter had immediately given off this kind of relaxed brooding vibe that said he wasn't one to be messed with, but you shouldn't worry, not if you kept to yourself. You do your thing and he'll do his, that was old Hunter Bradley.

Of course, then he became the evil Crimson Thunder Ranger, and things immediately changed.

Hunter was a player, like his brother, scoping out the competition and getting a feel for their weak spots, worming into their good graces so that the blow would hit harder when they turned. He was ruthless and shrewd, a very capable leader, and looked after his own. The only thing he cared about was Blake and the memories of parents, fighting for their honor and Blake's protection until his dying breath. Hunter would do it too, if it was necessary. He wouldn't think twice if he had to sacrifice himself for Blake's benefit.

Their story was sad, undeniably so, to lose parents at such a young age…just, _awful_, was the only way Tori could think to describe it. By the time they had joined the team they had more than earned the Wind's trust. They all understood what loss was, how strongly it could effect you, make you leap into things you would normally stand back and think through, very carefully, and lash out with reckless abandon.

She could tell the Bradleys didn't see it, but Tori had understood what they were going through. What Hunter had been going through. Sort of.

Once Hunter was on the team he was, frustratingly enough, even more distant than he had been when he was trying to kill them all. He was on the team, great, but he had his guard up and permanently locked in place. He didn't hate them, Tori didn't think, but he also didn't want to be burdened with their friendship. Now Tori knows that was because he felt inadequate to ever be able to reciprocate properly, that he himself was not substantial enough to be warranted the title of "friend", and it hurt Tori inside, just thinking it.

When Hunter _did_ grow to like them, to actually interact with them using words and stuff, he deceptively kept them at a distance with his sarcastic wit. The jokes he shared appeared to be friendly, like a privilege between friends, something they had worked for and finally earned, but Tori knew better. He was simply giving them the illusion of friendship, faking closeness so that they wouldn't press for it anymore. He needed that breathing room. He needed his space.

He was fake.

And yet, not entirely. Because sarcastic Hunter still _was_ Hunter. That goofy, Dustin-esque, randomized brain of his was the nougat-y center of all things Hunter. That was the thing he had conditioned as a survival mechanism, that no matter how _horrible_ the world was, there was always something to laugh at. That there had to be some bright side, even if it was _"Hey, got less broken bones than last week!"_ delivered with a cocky smile. Morbid humor. Dark humor. Crazy, off-the-wall humor.

Hunter had started sharing his jokes just to keep them at bay, but eventually he began to slip and divulged his actual opinions, his feelings, his concerns. Eventually, the team also slid into his good graces, and by the time he had realized it they had all settled in comfortably, wondering why he was so slow on the upkeep.

Hunter had freaked out, in his own special way, in that he started trying to push them all back out again. He acted like a jerk, tried to ignore them (mostly Shane, he ignored the hell out of Shane) and when it finally got to the breaking point where it surpassed the combined levels of both ridiculous and Ninja Storm-ridiculous, Tori decided to step in. It helped that he had focused most of his efforts on Shane, because with him, Hunter's problems were the most obvious. He was taken with the red ranger, had a special fondness that had surpassed mere friendship and he was miserable over it, because what could he possibly offer? Forget the fact that Shane was undeniably straight, even if gender _wasn't_ an issue; in what way could Hunter seem appealing? He had gotten irreparably broken when he was _eight_, that was not a good selling point. That wasn't how you won someone over.

Tori had explained to him, in very clear and simple words, that he, Hunter Bradley, was wanted for _him_. By _all_ of them, especially Shane.

They didn't like him because he was good at fighting, or because of his smart ass remarks; they liked him for his ridiculous stubbornness, for his decision to never give up, even when the odds were against him. For the fact he always tried to be there for them, even if he didn't think he could really help, because he knew how much being alone sucked sometimes and he didn't wish that on them.

She explained that Hunter was one of theirs now, and no matter what he did, no matter where he went, that would never change. He was stuck with them.

After that the real Hunter, the Hunter of present, finally reared his lovely head, doting upon all of them sarcastic quips and hijinks.

Hunter was her protector, though to be fair, he was everyone's protector. He refused to be anything but. He was fierce and deadly, prone to striking out before any blows could be made on him or his own, and constantly training. He always strove to be better, not for the need of revenge, but simply because he wanted to be prepared for any situation.

Hunter was her friend, a fellow blond with a devilish smile and the mindset of a trickster. He was the one who had time for a joke even when the world was collapsing around them, that refused to let any of them give up. Hunter was bloody knuckles and silent curses, glaring at the metallic parts of his Tsunami cycle for refusing to cooperate, wrench held threateningly in one hand. Hunter was thunder, loud and unrelenting, ferociously covering for one of them whenever they got knocked down, fending off the hordes until they were able to make it to their feet again.

Hunter was frustrating as hell, still aloof when he wanted to be, but they all loved him anyway.

He never spoke about their talk, none of them did, even though they knew it happened, but he always seemed incredibly grateful, during the quiet moments when it was just him and her.

He was relieved that they had accepted him for what he was; paranoid, over-prepared, angry, and full of snark. He was relieved they never tried to change him, that they only wanted him to open up.

He never thanked her for that.

But that was probably for the best, because if he had Tori would have had to thank him right back, and knowing Hunter that would have most likely shook the foundations of his world. Despite the fact it was true.

Tori was indebted to Hunter. Hunter had taught her the cost of survival, and the slow, winding road to re-learning how to trust, on valuing what you had.

Hunter taught her to be strong.

Because true strength was knowing when to change.

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

There was no fifth touch.

There was, once, but Tori couldn't honestly say in good faith that was the case anymore. And Blake would probably protest because he didn't want to be excluded, but the silly dope would never realize that _that_ wasn't the case either. She wasn't cutting him out, she was raising him _up_.

Blake Bradley used to be the fifth touch. He was short, that was the first thing Tori had recognized about him (what all of them had acknowledged first but were too well-mannered to mention, even Dustin, who probably found Blake adorable (in the most heterosexual, friend-like way, of course)). Blake was the smooth-talker, the younger, more charming brother. It was obvious that Hunter was the one who called the shots, but it wasn't an uneven relationship. The Bradley brothers were partners, they stuck together.

Tori had found that sweet, when she had first gotten to know them. Felt that Blake was thoughtful towards his brother, electing himself as speaker so Hunter wouldn't have to, playing as a buffer between his gruff counterpart and the rest of society. It instantly won him over, in Tori's book. Thoughtful guys always ranked high on her list, meant there was a smattering of brains in there. As much as Tori appreciated some eye candy, at the end of the day one still needed to be able to carry on a conversation with a possible romantic interest. There had to be something more there to work with.

Not that…Tori had been looking for that, necessarily. A possible romantic interest, she meant. Because she had enough stuff on her plate anyway. Hello, saving the world over here, no time for silly things like romance.

The…attraction stuck with her anyway (Blake really _was_ cute) which made it all the more heartbreaking when she realized how thoroughly he had used her. Saving her like a proper damsel in distress, fulfilling some archaic fairytale fantasy but reversing it, making it so she was saving _him_. Appealing to her sense of independence, maybe? She didn't know, she had never asked Blake about it. He didn't like talking about that time in his life and, in all honesty, Tori didn't want to ask about it.

Too many sore wounds, for all of them.

But then Blake was _back_, white flag waving and completely on their side, no hard feelings, they all wanted the same thing. She had tried to keep a professional barrier, not wanting things like attraction and romance threatening their ability to work together. It worked, for awhile. They were good friends. Blake was funny and down to earth, a fellow voice of reason whenever it came to combating the combined ove-rhyped minds of Shane and Dustin. Or Hunter and Dustin. Or whoever the hell was teaming up with Dustin for some less-than-good shenanigans.

Blake was cunning, which took her a long time to get used to, to view it without getting a sick feeling in her stomach. He was more easy-going than his brother, though just as plagued with fear and sorrow.

He missed his parents.

Tori could tell he often felt like he wasn't doing good enough for Hunter and that he was frustrated by it, because Hunter would never care. Hunter would never _let _him feel some kind of guilt because it wasn't Blake's place. Sometimes, Tori was sure Blake wished _he_ was the older brother, just so he could protect Hunter better. They had conditioned each other, she found, that was how Blake had come out the more charismatic one. Blake had taken on the things Hunter couldn't do, and in return, Hunter took care of any of the threats.

They were a team and for a long time that frustrated the hell out of Tori, because it was hard to get one without getting the other. Oh, their physical body could be absent, but they were always at the back of each other's minds. How would Hunter feel if Blake did this? If Blake did this, what about Hunter? If Blake go to the movies, will Hunter be okay?

Blake didn't want Hunter to feel like he was losing him. Though eventually that didn't matter so much. When Tori made her ultimatum for Hunter, she already had a Blake cheering on her side, tucked away in a special corner of her heart.

For Blake, there were too many instances for her to even think of picking one. Too many moments and too many touches for her to ever narrow it down, so here are the basic facts:

Blake was Tori's best friend. He was her confider, her protector, her guardian all rolled into one. He was her partner, and she was his, had dibs to always watch his back. He was her personal cheerleader, the guy that baited her to be better, that pushed her just a little bit harder, who understood (or tried, to understand) the difficulties she encountered being the only female on a team of completely inept _men_.

He was motocross and lightning, soaring into the sky and blazing past the competition, grins permeated in victory whenever he ripped his helmet off at the end of the track, coming in first, yet again. He was lazy Sundays on the couch, stealing Tori's crossword puzzles whenever he thought she wasn't looking and filling in some joke answers for her later discovery. He was a peacemaker, an apprentice chef to Dustin's expertise; he was two a.m. conversations and cold, Tuesday night pizza. He was the four months it took to ask Tori on a date, surprisingly _not_ coming in last out of the whole team, though it was close.

Blake was Tori's husband, and he was so much more than a touch.

Blake was a part of her life, he was the future she wanted to build together, he was the only constant she really needed to survive.

No offense to the others, but it was kind've a fact.

Blake always came first.

So there was no way he could be last.

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-

Tori had always thought that the first time she got pregnant; it would be with _her_ baby.

She really shouldn't be surprised about how things turned out though; Cam and Dustin always seemed to have their shit together before the rest of them.

They had been married a couple of years before they approached Tori, asking if she would be a surrogate mother for their child. When the shock managed to fade away she could see how excited they both were. Obviously there was some nerves involved, but they were ready, she could tell. They wanted to start building a family together, and she could never think to deny them. She was honored they had chosen her for this responsibility, for this gift.

And it really _was_ a gift, even if the couple hours of labor made her want to reconsider this.

Currently, the whole team was in Tori's hospital room, cooing over tiny baby Elise. Or Ellie, in casual company.

Shane was cuddling her blanket-wrapped form against his chest, staring down at the child with what could only be described as complete adoration. Behind him, Hunter was peering over his husband's shoulder, considering the baby with mixed looks of suspicion and fear; like he was afraid his love for this child would somehow wound it. Old habits, and all that, but Shane would sort that out later. He was kind of the master of it.

"Hey Ellie," Shane began softly, reaching down to brush a careful finger across Ellie's face, earning a few unintelligible coos in response. "I'm your uncle Shane, and I will be your favorite. Your other uncle's might try to tell you differently, but I'm just setting you straight now, I will be favorite."

"Hey-" Blake protested, sitting up straighter from his perch beside Tori's bed, halting his slow massage as he attempted to look offended. "I submit that I will be a _great-_"

"_Blake_," Tori murmured, silent warning in her voice. She had just delivered a fantastic baby into the universe; the least she deserved was her husband's hands on her shoulders.

"Got it," Blake replied, hands immediately resuming their past action and she sighed.

There, much better.

"Hunter too," Shane continued, holding Ellie up so that she could get a good look of Hunter's face. This caused the blond to reel back slightly, eyebrows furrowed, but the epic cuteness that was Ellie eventually won him over. He moved back, resting his head against Shane's shoulder, and gathered enough courage to reach out towards Ellie's face, as Shane had.

While his brother bonded with the first of what would probably be many babies (though hopefully, Tori wouldn't have to carry _all_ of them) Blake turned his attention towards the newest additions to parenthood, Dustin and Cam, both beaming (in their own ways) at Shane and Hunter's display.

"So," Blake began, making sure Tori's message remained uninterrupted. "Which one of you's the mom?"

"Tori is," Dustin replied cheerfully, eyes on Hunter as he relieved Shane of his burden, holding Ellie for the first time. His eyes were full of joy and Tori could tell, right then, that this was going to be one protected baby. And also, they had probably just created a monster. An Ellie-worshiping monster.

"You know what I meant," Blake continued, sharing a smile with Tori before looking back to the earth master.

"Yeah, I did," Dustin replied, easy as that, and turned his eyes back over to Tori and Blake, expression serious. "And Tori's still the mom."

The room was quiet, Blake's hands finally stilling as the…immenseness of what Dustin suggested weighed on Tori, and the brunette continued. "I mean, I'll be daddy Dustin, and Cam'll be daddy Cam, or father or, you know, whatever ends up working, but you'll always be Ellie's mom Tori." Pride leaked into his smile and Cam moved to wrap his arms around his husband's waist, though he too, was looking at Tori, serious and happy, but uncompromising. "You're a part of her life."

And they _were_ proud, both of them, of how far they had gotten. That they were here, building their own family despite all the things that screamed they would be incapable, that they weren't good enough, _normal_ enough to manage it.

Eventually Tori found her voice and there were tears, a quiet, steady stream of them that no one commented on, and she motioned over to Hunter.

"Well then, let me hold my baby," she said, voice cracking but smile bright, _so_ bright.

Hunter relinquished Ellie reluctantly, at Shane's insistence, and in the background Tori could hear the haze of talking. Not that she paid it much mind though, she had what she needed.

"So uh…" Dustin started up again, sounding a little choked up himself as he tried to continue. "Cam and I have been looking at this property out in Newtech-"

"You mean where the Silver Guardians are expanding?" Hunter asked, managing to pull himself out of his Ellie-deprived state to be fascinated with Dustin's news.

"The very place," Cam replied.

In Tori's arms, Ellie looked up at her, eyes squinting and face still a little red, but beautiful nonetheless.

"Yeah," Dustin picked up. "It's near the beach. Well, not like _on_ the beach so we have to be worried about waves and stuff but like, near it, and there's lots of room for expansion-"

"What, do you want us to live in one huge funhouse together?" Hunter asked, usual sarcasm inflected in his tone as he most likely shared a thoughtful look with Shane. Tori wouldn't know for sure though, she had a baby girl in her hands.

There was a small pause and Tori smiled, she knew where this was going.

Dustin's reply sounded just as hopeful as she thought it would. "…Yes?"

"We're a family," Cam elaborated. "We want to be together."

"The other teams are ranger families," Hunter protested, moving across the room so that Cam could behold his disbelief up close. You know, for effect. "You don't see them shacking up together."

"Well to be fair," Shane started, matching Hunter stride for stride. "They aren't as cool as us."

"There's a house next door," Dustin offered, trying to be helpful. "If you guys want a little privacy."

"All the way _next door_?" Hunter echoed, exaggerated disbelief sarcastic in its own right. "How ever so private."

"Hunter," Cam warned, low and quiet simultaneous with Shane's more exasperatingly fond "_Hunter_."

Tori started to drown them out a bit after that, too content with her husband's arm wrapped around her shoulders and the baby girl in her hands. A marvelous, resilient, tiny baby girl who she had already sworn to love forever.

"You're going to touch so many people's lives Ellie," She whispered, cuddling the tiny bundle against her chest closer, just to be safe. "You already have."

Dustin and Cam had instigated her existence, were her loving fathers, and were already a part of her. They didn't need to be counted though in all honestly, none of them needed to be counted. They were all family. They had all fought together, they had all beaten and prodded at each other's boundaries, forced each other to adapt and learn and change. To reevaluate their lives and their actions…

To celebrate in all the rainbows.

That left Ellie with plenty of touches of her own. Plenty of lives out there for her to reach out and change.

One touch, two touch, three touch, four.

And the world was at her fingertips.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-

* * *

Endnotes:

This story was to celebrate my two year anniversary as a writer on . That's right; two years ago today I posted my very first story. To celebrate this, I decided to come up with a family style one-shot featuring Tori, because I have a nasty habit of not giving her the ridiculous amounts of love she deserves.

I couldn't decide on a proper title, but then I remembered the song "The Rainbow Connection" which was the title I used for last year's anniversary piece. This story's title is literally from the first line of the song. Guess this'll become a thing now, I like it though. Then again, I really like the song, so I guess I'm kind've biased.

I don't really know where this came from, especially the ending, but it all sort've just…clicked, in the end. I hope you enjoyed this look into the Ninja Storm's team past and future and to those of you who have been around for the entire two years, thank you, for your patience and support. I will strive to keep getting better.

For those of you who are just jumping onboard the Paisley-train, welcome. I hope you enjoy the insanity. I assure you, it will all turn out for the best.

Here's to you guys : )

Until next time


End file.
